The Scottish Highlands
by Arani92
Summary: The first time I saw here, she was sitting on the beach, the waves from the ocean lapping at her ankles, her beautiful brown hair blowing gently across her face. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Who was this beautiful sad creature? Set in medieval Scotland


The door slammed, and my breath caught as he pushed me none too gently against the wall. His lips met mine in a fierce, breath taking kiss, and I moaned. I couldn't help it. His kisses were just so…right. My hands find their way to his hips, and I slowly lift hi shirt up, caressing his muscles on my path north. Impatient, he shrugs the shirt off, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud. A few seconds later, mine has joined his on the floor. He lifted me up, and my legs slid around his waist. I giggled softly as he kissed the hollow of my neck. He nuzzled his nose against me after the kiss, and he walked into the bedroom. He flopped me down onto the bed, and leaned over me, the moonlight bathing his ivory skin in a blue white light. I smiled again as he kissed my shoulder, and then my chest. He slowly made his way south, kissing and nipping my skin all the while.

"Edward," I whispered. He paused, and loomed over me once more, worry etched upon his brow.

"What is it?" he whispered back, kissing my temple. I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully, rubbing my hands along the back of his shoulders. I caressed the side of his neck, and felt the roughness of his beard under my palm.

"What if my father finds out about us? You know he would not condone such a relationship between us," I managed to choke out. Edward swore under his breath, and quickly lit the candle sitting on the windowsill.

"Damn it Bella. Every time, every single time we're alone together, you have to bring up a new reason as to why we shouldn't be. Do you not want us to be together? Because I can go. I can walk right out that door and never look back, but it'll kill me if I do. Do you love me or not Bella?" he demanded, a lock of his brown hair hanging in his eyes. I sat upright, my weight resting on my elbows. I felt a lump in my throat.

"Yes, of course I love you. But…" Edward frowned, and turned around, his hand slapped angrily to his forehead. He yelled, and stalked towards me. He pushed me down on the bed, gripping my shoulders. He leaned down so that our noses were touching. He looked into my eyes, and licked his lips.

"You are my entire world Bella. You are everything to me. I couldn't ask for more. Why is it that I'm not enough for you?" I swallowed, tears stinging my eyes.

"This shouldn't be happening. What if we're not meant to be together?" Edward stared at me as if I had lost my mind. Slowly, his expression relaxed. He leaned down further, and kissed my jawbone.

"So?" he whispered into my ear, kissing the lobe softly. "Then make a mistake with me."

* * *

_One year earlier..._

Tears flowed freely down my face as I gripped my mother's hand. It was the same hand that had been full of warmth and life only a few seconds before. I choked back a wail, and gathered her bloody head into my lap. We had been at war with the invaders for many years now, however over the past few months, their attacks upon our castle had become even more fierce. And now they had taken my mother from me.

I stared at my mother's lifeless eyes, and I sobbed. I screamed in anguish as I clutched her harder to my chest. We had been standing together on the battlement, watching anxiously as we tried to get a view of my father and brother, both of whom had gone out to fight, to lead our people against the rival clan. Father had told us to stay inside; he had warned us about the catapults, about the archers. He had warned us, but I did not think that something like this could have happened. I was naive. I begged my mother to take me out to see the battle. Was I really so eager to see men kill each other? The truth: I was. I wanted to see blood; I wanted to see my clan kill. I wanted to see the devastating power that my family wielded.

When I had had my fill of bloodshed, I turned around for just a second. When I turned back, my mother was lying at my feet, her head caved in, crimson blood pooling around my white silk slippers, staining them. I fell to my knees, blood splashing onto my face. I was stunned. We had been warned. We had been warned. But what good had it done us? We were just leaving to go back inside, and now she's dead. All I could think about was that it was my fault. If I had listened to my father, my mother would still be alive. She would still be able to find me a perfect husband; she would still be able to make my father happy.

But all of that is gone now because of my selfishness. I screamed. I screamed at God, cursing him for my misfortune. I screamed at the people who had murdered my mother. But most of all, I screamed at myself. I don't know how long I sat out there on that stone battlement, holding my mother's corpse in my arms, rocking back a forth, a small meek child, desperate to hear her mother's voice one last time. All I know is that soon it was dark, and I was still screaming and sobbing. My breaths were ragged, and my voice was raw, but I couldn't stop the pain. I couldn't stop the feeling of immense loss. She was dead. Because of me. Because of me my mother was dead.

Hours passed. But it seemed like centuries. Soon my brother found us, and I turned to him, my eyes dead, my face covered in my mother's blood. Rivulets of tears were streaming down my face, and I clutched her body closer to my own. My brother stood in the doorway, his shadow falling over my face. I closed my eyes, expecting the blows. I deserved them. I wanted them. Anything to stop the heartbreak. Anything at all. I didn't feel the blows. They never came. What I felt was strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, and then my mother slipping away.

"No! Don't take me away! Please! Mama! Mama! Mama! No! Mama!" I screamed, trying to wrestle free of the person separating me from the person I loved the most. My brother ignored my hoarse screams, he ignored my tears. I was hoping that he was going to throw me off of the battlement. I was hoping that he would throw me off. I was praying that he would kill me, the way I killed our mother. Instead, he kissed me gently on the forehead as he cradled me in my arms.

He walked quickly down the candle lit stone corridor, and to the war room, where our father was, busy planning out the next day's attacks. I was sobbing hysterically by then, no one being able to calm me down. My brother kicked open the door, and my screams echoed loudly in the brightly lit gold hall. My father, and all of his generals glanced up sharply. When my father saw my brother carrying me, blood soaked, in his arms, his face paled. He sprang to his feet, and rushed to my side. My brother dropped to his knees, and laid me gently down on the stone floor. My father's hands quickly roamed over my body, checking for any injuries. I kicked and clawed at them. I tried to push them away but they held me down.

"Mama!" I wailed helplessly. My father glanced at my brother, the truth of what must have happened sinking in. My brother, his eye's downcast, nodded slightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father tear up. He looked down at me, and gathered me into his lap. I buried my face into his chest, and screamed my grief to the world. I told them everything. I told them I went against his warnings because I wanted to see the battle that I was not allowed to fight in. I told them how a stone had crushed our mother's skull in. I told them how it was my fault, and that they should just kill me now, because I truly wanted to die. My father stroked my hair, and pressed me closer to his chest.

"Bella," he whispered. My brother's hand found its way into mine. I gripped his warm fingers desperately. I needed to feel his warmth. I needed to know that he was still there, still tangible.

"It's all my fault, all my fault. Mama I'm so sorry! Oh mama, I'm so sorry!" I wailed softly. My voice, from all of those hours of screaming, had finally worn itself out. I couldn't scream, or cry anymore. I was limp. Empty. I was a dark abyss of nothing. I felt as if my soul had been ripped out. The last thing I remembered before the blessed darkness was my father's soothing voice. His voice that was too obviously filled with sorrow. Sorrow and pain that I had unwillingly caused.


End file.
